Kuntal Roy, the East Zonal Head of a multinational company, enjoys a life of apparent contentment with his mother, wife, son, and daughter. Blessed with abundance, his home appears picture-perfect. But over the years, power has bred arrogance. Kuntal now moves through life cloaked in high status, his demeanor cold and self-assured. Behind this façade, he hides an illicit affair with his secretary, Nisha—a truth unknown to his family.
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One day, using a business trip as cover, Kuntal whisks Nisha away to Mandarmani for two days. As they return, rain lashes the roads. Kuntal, wishing to stay back, is overruled by Nisha—she insists on returning before her husband grows suspicious. Kuntal drives himself; he prefers not to bring the company driver on these secretive trips.
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On the way back, a heated argument erupts in the car over Nisha's pending salary increment. Distracted, Kuntal takes a sharp right on the bypass and hits a motorbike. The rider is thrown onto the road, writhing in pain.
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Panic floods the car. The rain is fierce, the road deserted, and there's no CCTV in sight. They make a chilling decision—to flee. If they take the boy to the hospital, the police will inevitably probe, and their affair will be exposed. Kuntal presses the accelerator, leaving the injured stranger behind.
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He drops Nisha home first, then returns to his own. Shaken, he pours a drink to steady his nerves.
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“You’re drinking the moment you walk in?” asks his wife, Pamela.
“Do I need your permission now?” he snaps.
“The work didn’t go well, did it?” she asks gently. Her composure needles him further.
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Kuntal reaches for a cigarette. Finding none, he growls, “Ask Krish to get me some.”
Pamela replies softly, “He left before the rain. Said a friend was in trouble. Still hasn’t returned. His phone’s off.”
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Annoyed, Kuntal mutters, “Tell him to stop hanging around those middle-class beggars. I have a reputation to uphold.”
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Just then, the housemaid appears: the police are at the door.
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Fear grips Kuntal. Did someone witness the accident? Have they come for me? He sends Pamela to speak to them, then hastily opens his cupboard to pull out cash—ready to bribe, if necessary.
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Suddenly, a commotion breaks in the drawing room. His mother, daughter, and Pamela are sobbing uncontrollably. Kuntal rushes in, stricken.
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Pamela, clinging to him through tears, utters the words that shatter his world:
“Our Krish is gone. Hit by a car near the bypass.”
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Kuntal turns to the police. “Where... exactly?”
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When they answer, his body freezes. His breath catches.
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It was there. That very spot. That very boy.
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It was his own son he left behind—dying in the rain, mistaken for a stranger. Fearing disgrace, he abandoned not only a life, but his own blood. His silence was not ignorance—it was a choice. What now could possibly absolve him?
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